Two Drunks In Deep Conversation
by wynnie the pooh
Summary: After Brennan breaks Booth's heart in the Parts in The Sum Of The Whole, she visits Angela for some advice, and a little bit of alcohol consumption.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Bones._

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* * *

Two Drunks In Deep Conversation**

One day Booth and Brennan would get together. I was sure of it. Surer than I was that Jack and speedboats didn't go together, no matter how many times he brought it up.

Unlike Jack and speedboats, Brennan and Booth were made for each other. He, with his warm open heart, and she with her cool sense of reason. They were polar opposites, but like most couples, this only drew them closer. I was sure of it, and when I'm right, I'm right. No one argues with Angela Pearly-Gates Montenegro.

I knew Booth was toying with the idea. I knew before Sweets told me. I knew from the day Booth woke up from that coma and was convinced he and Bren were married.

And I knew he'd acted on it the moment I was Bren standing at the door to my apartment, tears staining her cheeks.

"I've crushed his heart, Angela," she said. "And I think I've crushed mine too."

I let her in to my apartment and pulled a bottle of red wine from the cupboard. Hodgins had bought it for me a long time ago, but now it was needed, and it had gone to waste for far too long.

She took a sip, her hand shaking. I gulped down a swig of my own. Finally, I brought myself to ask her, "What happened?"

"He told me..." she mumbled. "He told me he loved me, but I knew the FBI would stop us working together so I said no."

The words fell from her mouth like verbal diarrhea and I barely had a moment to register them before she continued. "And then he tried to tell me that he didn't care, but I care. And he deserves better than me anyway. Everyone deserves better than me." She paused for a moment, her eyes watching me, sad. "I don't think I can love someone like Booth can, Ange."

I felt like slapping her. Truly. It would have been nice. But I highly doubted it would make her see sense, so I didn't. Instead, I laid a hand on her leg and gave her a small smile. "Sweetie, even if you don't know it, that heart of yours is larger than life. You just bury it down a little low."

"So the smell can't escape?" she asked, a hint of a smile crossing her face.

"So the smell can't escape." I nudged her in the side. "But seriously, sweetie, who gives a damn about the smell? Certainly not that hunk of spunk we call Booth."

Her eyes fell sad again, and she took another sip of wine. "I do, Ange."

I wrapped an arm solemnly around her shoulder. "Hey, I know you do."

I took another sip of my drink, and let her finish hers before standing up and pulling her from the chair with me. "Come on, Sweetie. Let's set you up on the fold out couch. You don't have to go anywhere tonight, and tomorrow, we'll call in sick to work."

"I've never called in sick to work before."

"I know."

"But I don't want to see Booth."

"No, you don't."

"If it's okay, could I stay here with you?"

I almost laughed.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, Bren was in the kitchen making scrambled eggs. She seemed strangely calm, almost muted, and I had a funny feeling that she was doing that compartmentalization thing again.

"Hey, Sweetie, how're you doing?" I asked her.

"I'm good."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Not to the levels that I normally do, with more REM sleep time than usual, but for a relatively long period of time."

"I didn't understand a word of that," I said. "I caught something to do with _time _and _sleep. _That's about it."

"To put it simply, I slept for a long time, but it wasn't a very deep sleep, and I dreamed more than I normally do." She turned away from me to stir the eggs again and I approached her, bumping our hips together.

"Ooh, more dreams, eh? Anything sexy?" I raised my eyebrows suggestively, but she only kept stirring the eggs.

"No. Not particularly. I mainly dreamed about Booth."

I raised my eyebrows again. "And that doesn't equal sexy?"

"Not in this case, no." Sometimes I hated my best friend's inability to think anything other than literally. I sighed.

"Bren, sweetie, let me finish with those eggs. Go grab out a bottle of white wine from the fridge and we'll drink away into unconsciousness before lunch."

Brennan walked across to the fridge and reached inside for the wine, but stopped. "Shouldn't we call in to Cam or someone?"

"Eh," I said nonchalantly. "As if anyone's going to try and find us. And anyway, Hodgins said he'd cover for me any time I wanted to take a sick day."

I could see her mind tick over as she placed the wine bottle on the table and reached into the cupboard for some glasses. I knew the question was coming before she'd spoken it. Sometimes, you could read Bren like a book.

"What's with you and Hodgins, Ange?"

I let out a short laugh and took the eggs off the hot-plate, transferring the pan to the sink and the eggs to two plates. "I have no clue."

"He likes you."

"I know."

"Do you like him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Cam said that you'd broken up with Wendell, and I just assumed it had something to do with Hodgins."

"Why would it have something to do with Hodgins?"

She raised her eyebrows at me this time before looking back down at the glasses and pouring. "It seems, in the last few years, everything to do with your love life is somehow connected to Hodgins." She passed me a glass. "According to Cam, anyway."

I sighed, and brought the plates across the table. "I don't know, Bren," I said. "I really don't. I mean, yeah, I used to love him, but I don't think I do anymore. Except..." I trailed off and she motioned for me to continue.

"Except?"

"Except when I thought I was pregnant - you know, that test Cam found - I told Hodgins. And he said he'd marry me. And move me in with him. And raise the baby. And it was incredibly sweet."

"And?"

"Well, I didn't tell Wendell."

"And?"

"He found out."

"And?" I was starting to get tired of her mono-syllabic answers. Wow, did I just say _mono-syllabic? _

"He said he'd pay child support."

I looked down at my eggs and took a tentative mouthful.

"Am I correct in the assumption that you found Hodgins unorthodox proposal more romantic than Wendell's monetary offerings?"

I laughed. "Wouldn't you?"

She laughed as well. "Yes, I would."

I took this as an opportunity to change the subject. "So why won't you admit that Booth's a complete romantic?"

Her face, previously smiling, suddenly fell dark and sad. She didn't reply.

Instead, my cellphone buzzed against the counter and I picked it up. Caller ID read _Jack. _

"What?" I snapped.

"Ange, where are you?"

"I'm sick, okay."

"You don't sound sick."

"Well, I am. Cough. Cough." My voice was dry, but he laughed at me nonetheless.

"Come on, Angie. I know you're not sick. And where's Brennan?"

"She's with me. She's sick, too."

"If you send me the snotty tissues, I will believe you're sick."

Sometimes his fascination with gross bugs and substances freaked me out. This was one of those times. "What are you going to do? Analyze the levels of infection in my snot?"

"Something like that."

"Oh my God, Hodgins! That's gross!"

He only laughed. "So you want me to cover for you, right?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Sure thing, Angela. Just remember, there's no need to see a doctor for a prescription for the flu. Just come to me and I'll check your snot."

I moaned, and pressed the 'end' button, finishing the call.

"That was Hodgins," Brennan said, taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs and rinsing it down with a sip of wine.

"Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"He said he'd cover for us. Also, something about putting our snot under his microscope."

"That would actually be quite fascinating. The microbial information that could be gained is vast."

I sighed and rested my head in my hand. "Why am I surrounded by freaks?"

* * *

Brennan and I were completely drunk by lunch. We'd gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and even though I was still quite lucid, I could tell that Bren was on the verge of being wasted. She may claim she's good with her alcohol, but when she wants to drown her sorrows, man can she drown 'em.

"Angela?" she asked me, slurring her words. "Why are men such bastards?"

I had to laugh at her choice of words. I'd never heard her use the word _bastard _to describe a person other than one with unmarried parents at the time of his birth.

"I don't know, Sweetie," I said. "But I sure know that if we didn't have them, sex would be pointless. It'd be fun, sure, but not as good, and completely pointless."

"How do you know so much about sex, Angela?"

"I've done it a lot," I laughed in reply.

"So have I, but I still seem to be quite unaware in many aspects."

"That's because you haven't done it like I've done it, sweetie."

"Why not?"

I paused, thinking about that. Most of the guys I slept with were short term relationships, barely more than a month, sometimes even less than a week. They were hot - man, they were hot - but it never lasted. The only thing they were good for was the sex, and the flirting.

The only exception to that was Hodgins. And as Bren had displayed so... point-blankly in her book, Hodgins had probably been the best I'd ever had.

Sure, other people had technique, and some cool moves, and I had more than a few moves of my own. But somehow, none were as good as Hodgins.

But what made Hodgins special? Why hadn't Brennan found someone like that?

And then, through the fog of alcohol, clarity rang out. _Booth. _Booth was to Brennan like Hodgins was to me. The one man that adores you with all his heart, and doesn't give a damn how annoying you are, or how pissed you can get. He thinks you're pretty when you're dressed up, and he thinks you're pretty when you've just woken up. And you love him too. That's what makes sex so good.

But I didn't say that. I couldn't say that. Instead I said, "Hey, if you'd given it a chance with Booth, maybe you would have."

Her eyes didn't turn sad like they had earlier. Instead, the alcohol numbed her emotions, clouding her senses, and she barely responded.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Booth's shoulders _are _very broad and proportionally speaking his penis is unlikely to be lacking in size."

I laughed. That was my Bren. Even if she was sloshing drunk.

* * *

The knock came on my door at about two in the afternoon. At least I think it was two. The details are a little cloudy.

I answered the door, mainly because I'd cut back on the wine, and Bren hadn't. She was lying on the couch, looking at her fingers as she wiggled them in front of her eyes, and singing songs to herself.

"Hey," I said to whoever was on the other side of the threshold.

"Hi, Angela. Is Bones here?" I registered Booth's tall, muscled frame and gave a flirtatious grin.

"Why? Need a bit of mid-afternoon action?"

He didn't laugh. Instead, he pushed me aside and walked into the room.

"Bones," he said, moving over to Brennan's side and shaking her shoulders. "Are you drunk?"

"Booth!" she replied, placing her hands on either side of his face. "I'm _wasted. _It means... it means... it means... Well, I think it means very very happy. Because I'm very very happy."

I laughed, sitting down at the dining table. Booth didn't look up at me, and Bren's gaze didn't waver further than the edges of his face.

"Bones, why didn't you come into work?"

"I didn't want to see someone."

"Someone?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I think it was you, Booth. I didn't want to see you." She giggled. "But now it seems silly, because now you're here and my tummy feels warm and-"

I'd been expecting it for the last hour or two but when Brennan finally let out the contents of her alcohol filled stomach, I hadn't expected it to be all over Booth. Or more accurately, all over Booth's face.

I could tell he was disgusted. Hell, I would be disgusted. No wait, I _was _disgusted, and it hadn't even landed on the carpet.

I watched as Booth walked slowly across the sink and ran his face under the faucet. Bren was stammering from the couch. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I really didn't. Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me for crushing your heart?"

I paused then. So did Booth. I could feel the tension in the room, and I could have cut it with a double edged broadsword.

"What?" Booth asked.

"Can you forgive me?" Brennan had sat up, and was wiping her mouth and her sleeve. She looked pale, but her eyes were watching Booth with a steady gaze, and I had the feeling that, no matter how drunk she was, a part of her would always remember the answer.

"Of course. Of course I forgive you."

She stood up, trying to rush to his side, and it seemed like she was going to kiss him. Instead, she fell over, landing on her backside. Booth hurried to help her up.

"Bones, are you okay?"

"Ow, my butt."

"Come on," he groaned, lifting her off the ground. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she wrapped hers around his neck. From my spot at the table, I smiled. It looked like they were about to kiss. Bren's lips were all puckered up and her eyes were closed.

But then Booth pushed her away. "No. Not with your breath stinking like puke you don't."

* * *

Later that afternoon, I was lying on my bed. Booth had taken Brennan back to her apartment, and said he was going to make her sleep off the buzz. I wondered how long he would wait with her.

I knew Booth and Brennan would end up together. I always did. I knew it better than I knew the back of my hand. I knew it better than I could draw a face from a skull. I knew it damn well.

I heard the knock on my door, as I was thinking about Booth and Brennan. I thought it might have been Booth, but then I realised the knock was on my bedroom door, not the door to the apartment. No one had the key to my apartment except for...

Hodgins.

"Can I come in?" he whispered from the door. I sat up in the bed and looked at him, squinting to try and see through the fog. He was wearing jeans and a long sleeve printed tee. Kind of classic Jack. I loved his classic look. Smexy.

"If you have to," I mumbled by way of reply. He entered my room and sat down beside me, making the bed move, and me lose my balance. I slid into him, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulder.

"Angie," he said. "Angie, Angie, Angie."

"What?"

"How much did you drink?"

"Less than Brennan."

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Why did you come here?" I asked him.

"Booth called. He said he'd taken Dr Brennan home, and you were still here, but you were drunk as all hell, and he didn't want you doing something stupid. So I came."

"You didn't have to. I was just sitting here. I think I was about to fall asleep before you barged in."

He laughed. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you're all right. I told Wendell he should do it, but he refused."

"Wendell and I broke up," I said.

"Yeah, he told me."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No. I was hoping you would tell me."

I snorted. "As if!"

"Was it something to do with me?" He raised his eyebrows, and I snuggled in to him. Hey, don't shoot me. I had no balance, and he was warm.

"No way," I said.

"Then why won't you tell me?"

I paused, reaching for his free hand. "Coz it had everything to do with you."

* * *

Jack and I had sex that afternoon. I don't know how you'd classify it. Drunken sex? Well, only I was drunk. Desperate sex? Well, maybe we were a little desperate. But that wasn't it.

What it was, was the best damn sex I had ever had. And maybe the alcohol was a part of that, but I think a lot of it was to do with the fact that it was Hodgins. And when you're with the guy that adores you, the sex is just naturally better.

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So this is another short one-shot set after the 100th episode. Hope you enjoyed!


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